


Drowning (In My Feelings)

by Macabre74



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Hot Tub Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nyongtory, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macabre74/pseuds/Macabre74
Summary: In which two hearts inseparable reunite and things go unspoken.(Jiyong with the red 'Made' era hair. Enjoy.)





	Drowning (In My Feelings)

The sultry sound of Jay Park's "You Know" plays through the club's speakers, the neon lights in the dark space obscured somewhat by the miasma of cigarette smoke overhead, seeming to lazily undulate in time with the writhing bodies on the dance floor.

It was late, that murky hour between late-night and early morning, but in the windowless Seoul nightclub, time was a vague notion unworthy of concern to those lost within its cavernous depths.

In the middle of the dance floor, a petite young man with a mop of bright red hair, rings on every finger, and sinfully tight crimson leather pants was in his own world. Arms thrown over his head, he swirled his delightfully slender hips in time with the music, lost to the sound.

It was almost a shame he was dancing on his own, and judging by the number of eyes fixed hungrily on him, there were plenty of people in the club that shared that sentiment. Alas, every brave soul that had attempted to sidle into his personal space had been gently rebuffed with a smile as enigmatic as it was electrifying, to the extent that those rejected could harbor no ill-will.

He was untouchable.

The song came to an end, and the redhead made his way off the dance floor, the crowd parting as if for royalty. When he made it to the bar, he lifted a dainty finger for the bartender's attention, the silver paint on the nail giving it an ethereal allure.

The bartender, so summoned, leered at him while taking his order. Before he could attempt to flirt with the sexy young thing that had graced his bar with his presence, a hand extended between them and cash slid across the bar for the drink.

The redhead looked up, his alluring smile already in place as he prepared to thank his benefactor before excusing himself, uninterested in playing nice with anyone, even if they bought him a drink.

The smile slid off his face when he caught sight of the side profile of the man in question, exchanged for an expression of confusion that lasted for mere moments before unbridled joy wrote itself over his distinctly beautiful features.

"Seungri?"

The blonde man offered a half-smile. "Hyung, I found you." He extended his arms, and the redhead immediately folded himself into them, drink forgotten on the bar.

"When did you get back from Japan?" were the words muffled against Seungri's shoulder as the redhead cuddled into him shamelessly, making him the envy of every person that had been eye-stalking the tattooed young man all night.

"About an hour ago," Seungri checked the expensive watch on his wrist, before stroking his fingers gently through the sweat-damp red hair. "I came here straight from the airport; the taxi is waiting outside," he added, the invitation unspoken but heavily implied.

The young man drew back enough to study Seungri's face questioningly. "You've gotten forward," he scolded, and the red flush to his cheeks might have been a trick of the light, or the heat of the club, but it could equally as likely have been blushing.

"Don't blame me," Seungri requested, his smile taking on a teasing cast. He leaned forward, lips brushing over the shell of the shorter man's ear. "I missed you, oppa."

 

**_***_ **

 

The taxi ride to the hotel was a blur, and the two were bustled into the service entrance to avoid nosy paparazzi, the elevator taking them straight to the top of the tower to the penthouse suite Seungri had reserved specifically for the night.

They stood an inconspicuous distance from one another in the elevator, painfully aware of the existence of unseen cameras. When the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open silently, there was a beat in which neither of the men moved, too busy drinking one another up with their eyes to realize they'd reached their destination.

Seungri snapped out of it first, and he finally reached for the slender hand of the other man, drawing him out into the carpeted hall. He slid the keycard in the lock, the light flashing green as they spilled into the privacy of the hotel room.

The door slammed closed behind them, and Seungri found himself immediately slammed up against that same door, his lips captured in a punishing kiss, all nipping teeth and bruising lips. Head spinning as if he'd been the one drinking all night, Seungri could do nothing but weather the storm, a faltering moan stuttering from between his lips as a leather-clad thigh pressed up between his own legs, his half-hardness immediately evident and growing more interested by the moment.

Seungri groaned, fingers curling into the soft redness of the shorter man's hair. "Jiyong..."

"Yeah?" Jiyong murmured into the crook of Seungri's neck, slowly and insistently sucking the beginning of a bruise there. Marking, claiming. It'd been months since he'd seen Seungri in person; he was half out of his mind with want. He'd never agreed to the maknae heading to Japan to shoot some silly drama series, but with a solo album on the horizon, he knew it was good for Seungri to get out there so he hadn't objected too strongly.

"Jiyong, let me show you," Seungri bargained, trying to extricate himself from the tangle of their limbs, and he muddle-headedly wondered when Jiyong had managed to unfasten his belt.

"Show me what?" Jiyong wondered, skeptical. His eyes were half-lidded with want, with need, but he allowed Seungri to lead him deeper into the suite, to the bathroom.

Inside, the deep hot tub was filled with water, the jets disturbing the surface which was strewn with fragrant orchid petals.

Jiyong was surprised yet again, and his momentary shock allowed Seungri the upper hand, which he used to slowly, reverently undress his hyung. He took liberties in the process, lips and fingers trailing over every diminutive curve and plane of Jiyong's exposed body.

Seungri was like a man obsessed; he slowly went to his knees before Jiyong to peel those leather pants from his slim hips, his lips pressed to the indentation between the curve of Jiyong's hip and inner thigh. Every inch of Jiyong's skin was flawlessly smooth, waxed to a level of unrealistic perfection that was so uniquely Jiyong that it was intoxicating.

Once Jiyong was fully naked before his eyes, Seungri wasted no time divesting himself of his own clothes, hindered in the effort by Jiyong's insistent kisses, those naked limbs practically wrapped around him like an octopus, as if Seungri taking his clothes off was simply too long for them to be parted.

Somehow Seungri managed, and the romance of the setting was ruined briefly as the two of them tumbled gracelessly into the tub, splashing a wave of water and flower petals onto the marble floor.

When they again breached the surface, Seungri was on top, his legs straddling Jiyong's lap, fingers gripping those soaked red strands of his hair again as if drawn by a magnet.

Their teeth clicked together violently as they kissed, Jiyong holding the younger man's hips, grinding their erections together with a deliciously wet friction under the water's surface. The sound of panting and moaning was more rhythmic than any top ten hit played in the club that night.

There was a hitch in Seungri's groan when the tip of Jiyong's finger found his entrance, teasing without entering. Seungri shivered; this was what he'd missed. When he was out there, he was the extroverted charmer, the CEO, the mover and shaker - the Boss. He'd slowly come into his own, with a momentum that intimidated businessmen from countries around the globe. But it was here, in Jiyong's arms, that he was truly his own.

He rolled his hips greedily and was rewarded with a biting kiss as Jiyong's finger smoothly slid into the tight heat of his ass, hotter even than the water sloshing around their grinding bodies. Seungri sobbed out a moan, pressing down onto the finger, begging for more, and he wasn't disappointed.

"So impatient," Jiyong whispered as a second finger joined the first, and he scissored his fingers meanly, enjoying the broken sound of Seungri's moans as the blonde threw his head back, exposing the curve of his throat, submissive as ever to the pretty redhead he'd called 'leader' for most of his life.

"More?" Jiyong asked, nipping at Seungri's throat, and he was rewarded with a breathless groan. "Then open up for me, baby."

Seungri complied immediately, riding Jiyong's pretty fingers with wanton abandon, his back curved as he grinded down. Murmuring nonsensical words of praise, Jiyong added a third finger to the first two, stretching Seungri open around his invading digits, and his cock throbbed thinking about how amazing that tightness would feel around him as soon as Seungri was fully prepped.

"Please," Seungri gasped, droplets of water clinging to his ridiculously long, dark lashes like tears, like diamonds.

"I love when you beg," Jiyong murmured, and he slipped his fingers free of their confines. Seungri's immediate whine of distress turned into a keen of satisfaction as Jiyong replaced his fingers with his cock, dragging Seungri down his length in one slow, smooth slide until their hips met. Seungri threw himself forward for a kiss, overwhelmed by the fullness inside of him, his leaking cock trapped between their abdomens.

Jiyong allowed Seungri a minute to adjust, petting along the younger man's sides in soft reassurance, but soon his patience ran out, and he bucked up beneath Seungri, forcing a sharp moan out of the pretty maknae. "Ride," he demanded.

Seungri complied immediately, as if incapable of disobeying a direct order, and in the back of his mind he wondered if perhaps he'd been brainwashed, if the sound of Jiyong's voice had some literal control over his mind, considering the way his body responded to the other man's words. These thoughts were forced from his mind as the thickness of Jiyong's cock reamed him open, their hips working in tandem as they churned the water of the hot tub. Seungri rode Jiyong's dick like he'd been made for it, like it was part of him, like there was no distinction between where Jiyong ended and he began.

Jiyong's painted nails raked down Seungri's back. "Such a pretty baby," he whispered hotly, watching Seungri bounce up and down above him. "Taking that cock so good," he encouraged. He'd missed this more than he cared to admit. He'd never tell Seungri that he wasn't fucking anyone else. Never whisper the truth into the sexy blonde's ear, that Seungri's face was what he saw behind his lids when he touched himself, alone in the dark. That it was Seungri's phantom hands he felt all over his body when he danced by himself. That he recorded every episode of Seungri's drama and fucked his fist to Seungri's smile on the screen. "Such a whore for oppa," he teased through clenched teeth, his hips snapping up sharply.

"Jiyong," Seungri whined, eyes clenched shut as he shivered and shook apart in Jiyong's lap.

"That's not what you call me," Jiyong teased, scraping the side of his thumbnail over Seungri's dusky nipple in front of him, and he reveled in the coquettish clench of Seungri's hole around the base of his cock.

"Oppa," Seungri moaned instead, mouthing at Jiyong's ear as he bent forward, bouncing up and down mindlessly, chasing the jolts of pleasure found in every meeting of their hips, the glide of the water not enough to completely erase the delectable burn of his stretched hole. "Fuck me, oppa," he whispered, tonguing Jiyong's earlobe and enjoying the feel of Jiyong's hips snapping up again needfully. "Just like that, oppa," he whined. "Fuck me open. You feel so good," he babbled, riding harder. "Fuck me. Ruin me. Harder, oppa," he keened, head reeling as Jiyong's hands gripped his hips, slamming him up and down at a brutish pace, surprising him yet again with the strength in those slender arms.

"Who taught you to talk like that?" Jiyong groaned, helpless as his orgasm approached like a bullet train. "Such a bad mouth," he hissed hotly, chasing down his pleasure as he pistoned in and out of Seungri like a man possessed.

"Oh, fuck," Seungri sobbed, head falling forward again as one particularly brutal thrust nailed his abused prostate at just the right angle, forcing his orgasm out of him like a punch to the gut, semen rocketing from his painfully hard cock, briefly clouding the water between the two over-exerted bodies. "If it's so bad, maybe oppa should punish my mouth next," he teased breathlessly, arms draped weakly around Jiyong's shoulders.

"Fuck," Jiyong groaned, the image of Seungri's mouth around him coupled with the heat of his ass around his cock sending him barreling over the edge of oblivion, and he wrapped his arms around Seungri as he slammed upward once, twice, three times, emptying himself deep inside of Seungri as if painting his name on the blonde's insides, claiming him from the inside out.

Sated, the sound of their breathless panting echoed in the bathroom until Jiyong finally had the strength to lift Seungri off his cock, which was still half-hard, and he mentally lamented the fact that he could probably never go fully soft with Seungri in arm's reach. He wanted. Needed. There was no such thing as 'enough'.

Seungri fetched the expensive, perfumed body wash supplied by the hotel, and the two used their bare hands to clean each other, Jiyong sneakily sliding two fingers into Seungri's cum-painted insides under the pretense of cleaning him out, earning a slap to his shoulder.

Jiyong flashed his deceptively innocent smile and Seungri melted; he'd never been able to stay annoyed with Jiyong, not when the beautiful boy of his dreams smiled at him like that. Of course, he'd never tell Jiyong that. Never tell him how soul-shaking it was for him every time Jiyong threw himself into his arms. Never tell him how awestruck he was every time he realized that Jiyong wanted him. _Him_. The annoying maknae, the silly boy that no one had taken seriously. Even after all these years, he was still infatuated with Jiyong, still star-struck by the leader that had dragged him onto the stage by the hand so long ago.

"Stop looking at me like that," Jiyong broke the silence, ducking his head shyly when he couldn't take Seungri's staring any longer.

"Like what?" Seungri wondered, one brow arching with his signature cockiness as he dared Jiyong to put to voice the feelings they both repressed, the moment stretching taut between them, fragile as a single strand of the silk Jiyong liked to drape himself in.

"Like you want to eat me," Jiyong quipped, splashing Seungri in the face and breaking the spell of the moment, laughing as Seungri spluttered indignantly, water dripping into his eyes from his hair.

The two wrestled playfully in the water, leading to yet another hot makeout session before Jiyong crowded Seungri up against the side of the tub and took him from behind, their cries and moans reverberating through the room until exhaustion claimed them both.

Spent, they landed in bed, temporarily sated, their tangled limbs evidence of their unwillingness to be parted until absolutely necessary.

"Night oppa, love you." The words were spoken lightly, irreverently, a blasphemy to the depth of their meaning.

"I love you too, go to sleep." Jiyong curled into Seungri's embrace, lashes fluttering as he settled to sleep, relaxed for the first time in months, nestled in the only arms he could stand to have around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep your hate in your pants, I will curse a motherfucker out in the comments. :) #Nyongtory #BigBang #Seungri


End file.
